


Starcrossed Losers

by plasticpumpkins



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday, Body Worship, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Cheating, Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Kink, Daydreaming, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, Lots of emotions bc the author is an idiot, M/M, Play Fighting, Secret Crush, Tickling, Very cheesy dialogue, Wade isn't deadpool for the vast majority of this fic, but barely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 19:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16165553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasticpumpkins/pseuds/plasticpumpkins
Summary: Peter Parker had a big, annoying crush on Aunt May's boyfriend, Wade Wilson. And as if things couldn't get any worse, the older man has the audacity to crowd his space and steal his candy. Peter won't allow that to happen at all, even if it means fighting to the death, and maybe a little sexual tension on the way.





	Starcrossed Losers

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic has now been edited & revised by yours truly! If anyone wants the original copy, please leave a comment & I'll post it as a second chapter! Thanks for all the support, guys! 
> 
> Title is from 'Starcrossed Losers' by The Fratellis. 
> 
> See ya!
> 
> P.S. I better not see any random hate on this fic, considering its appropriately tagged. Read at your own risk. Thank you!

It was midnight in New York City, and Peter Parker was curled up on the couch underneath a warm blanket. The Golden Girls was playing low on the television, though Peter found his attention was shifting back and forth between the show and his text conversation with Ned. It had been an extremely long week, studying for midterms in the evenings, patrolling as Spider-Man at night, and then waking up at six in the morning to repeat the cycle. This was the first night he had been able to relax in weeks and he was reveling in every last second of it. On his phone, Ned was telling him about a new movie he saw with MJ. And on screen, Dorothy and Blanche were arguing over who deserved a particular man more. Everything felt welcomingly muted, and Peter was content in having no real responsibilities.

He had a package of watermelon Sour Patch Kids pressed against his chest, and his left hand was practically fused with the box with how often he reached for them. Peter had spent the last bit of his allowance on it, and he hadn’t washed the dishes yet so Aunt May definitely wasn’t giving him another twenty bucks anytime soon. But that didn’t really matter much at that moment. He was just trying to decompress and ignore everything that had plagued him all week. Peter wasn’t in his school clothes, nor was he sealed tightly into his suit anymore. He was in his pajamas, loose and repping an old 70s band.

Peter got a text from Ned, telling him he was going to bed. So, Peter sent two ghost emojis and told him goodnight before dropping his phone and relaxing back into the couch. On screen, Rose was telling a story of her hometown very seriously while the other girls nodded, albeit confused and vaguely horrified. He had seen this episode before, but he didn’t mind; there was something nice in the familiarity of it all. Nobody would ever ask him to, but he could probably recite it word by word. The show was always something May would put on to off-handedly watch, and there came his obsession.

At the end of the hallway behind Peter, he heard a door open and close. On account of the heavy footsteps, he knew it wasn’t May leaving her bedroom. It had to be her boyfriend, Wade, who for the last six months or so had made their little apartment his second home. Peter could only hope he’d pass by him entirely and head for the kitchen, but on the account that he had the worst luck in the world, Wade paused behind the couch. He planted his hands on the back of it and leaned over the edge.

“You’re watching the Golden Girls without me, Pete? Do you hate me?” Wade said accusingly.

“Only when you do Seinfeld impressions,” he quipped back, glancing over his shoulder to catch the older man’s stare. He was much closer than Peter anticipated, and he had to fight back an involuntary gasp. He was forced to take in the entirety of Wade’s presence, which included his blue eyes flashing low in the light of the television and his reddened lips. It started then, the insistent thoughts that plagued Peter’s mind every time he saw the older man. First, that sweet, compelling feeling that envelops him entirely. Second, the envious ache of jealousy. And third, overwhelming shame and guilt.

Wade laughed softly behind him, “Don’t tempt me… Do ya mind if I join ya?”

Peter’s heart leaped into his throat, and he managed to croak, “If you can find a place to sit…”

Peter was very aware that he was taking up nearly the entire couch, and it would’ve been kind for him to sit up to make room. But he deserved the whole couch, okay? He worked his butt off all week to be lazy. Wade could’ve sat in the recliner in the corner, and lessened the magnetic pull Peter felt towards him. But this was Wade, so instead, he rounded the couch, picked Peter’s feet up, slid underneath, and promptly dropped them back on his lap. Peter tried not to twitch awkwardly, but it was a difficult feat.

His legs were lying across Wade’s lap, resting atop his thighs, so close to his… Peter kept his eyes trained on the television, trying his very best to be as casual as possible. The traitor of his heart fluttered when Wade rested his hands on his ankles, his palms warm and threatening to kill Peter with such a simple touch. Every part of him zoned in on the feeling, electrified and far too eager. He did his best to pay attention to the television, even as his pulse quickened rapidly and it became harder to evenly breathe.

On screen, Dorothy was admitting she had lost a dog when she was younger and had vowed to never let herself become that attached again. In the wasteland of Peter’s head, his thoughts were racing, tangled in thoughts nobody should be having about their aunt’s older boyfriend. Before he knew it, he was wandering off with his imagination, thinking of Wade tugging the blanket covering his body off and crawling between his legs. Large, calloused palms grazing along his feverish skin, needy for his touch.

A feeling like honey pooled in his stomach. It was the sensual, desperate part of him that he hid away at night when his door was closed and locked. He would succumb to that alluring, syrupy lust and melt into his bed at night where he fucked his own hand and whispered Wade’s name like a prayer. But out in the open, feeling this way, especially when he was touching Wade, he could barely handle himself. Peter felt like at any moment, he would make a wrong move and subsequently expose his secrets.

But his eyes were drooping, and he had to suppress the urge to bite his lip at the thoughts that were occurring. He imagined the older man creeping into his bedroom at night and pressing him into the mattress, insisting not to tell May as he plucked Peter’s pajamas off piece by piece and promised to fuck him senseless. It would be their little secret. Finally, he would be completely and totally alone, sans hidden desires, finally indulged. Wade would want him back, and that ache in his chest would cease.

It wasn’t as if Peter didn’t know it was wrong. He wasn’t from the backwoods of some unknown town. He wasn’t blissfully unaware, no, he knew. Not only was Wade his aunt’s boyfriend, but he was thirty-five years old compared to Peter’s measly seventeen. And as if it couldn’t get any worse, Peter found something alluring about Wade’s age; the way he carried himself, always confident and laid back. He was secure and relied on nobody else to support himself. Peter envied him as much as he wanted him.

Wade was a six foot two wall of pure muscle, but anyone could tell you that about him. What they didn’t know was that he had enough sarcasm to fill an above ground pool, fitted with rolling eyes and a mouth always grinning. Wade had a short, military-style haircut with the slice of a scar through his right eyebrow and jaw scruffy with stubble. He was rustically handsome - the type of man Peter would see in passing and pretend not to notice as he webbed perps out of back alley bars. And to make it all worse, the gross, artificial cherry on top, he had the type of personality that always kept you listening.

Oh, and was Peter listening. The Golden Girls theme played as the credits rolled on screen, but the station promised another episode after a short commercial break. “Sometimes I really wish Blanche and Dorothy would make out, ya know? They’ve got some weird tension,” Wade commented, shaking his head dismissively while he chewed agonizingly at the skin on either side of his clean fingernails.

Peter was aware of every move he made, or at least he thought he was. Wade’s left hand was occupied with his bad habits but he hadn’t remembered the one closest to Peter barely resting atop his legs. It was such a sudden movement, Peter wasn’t sure if he imagined it; but all of a sudden, Wade’s thumb, featherlight and calloused, was grazing along the ball of his ankle. It took everything for Peter not to jump in surprise and yank his legs to his chest. Even worse, he had to suppress the urge to shiver.

“Sorry, kid, I always forget how bony you are,” Wade said, meeting his eyes with that easy smile.

Arousal flooded him, but he still scoffed in offense, “Well, we can’t all be ex-military bodybuilders.”

Wade snorted, “Alright, Mr. Twink USA, I apologize.” Peter intentionally dug his heel into Wade’s thigh, making the older man hiss through his teeth in pain and say, “Okay! Okay. You win.”

He assumed Wade would shrug it off as a one-time thing; however, to Peter’s surprise, the older man kept running his thumb across his skin, edging up along the skinny bone connecting to his leg. On screen, Blanche was introducing her new man to the other girls, which Peter was struggling to pay full attention to. He was too busy picturing Wade’s hands creeping further up his legs, finding the smooth dough of his thighs and pressing calloused fingers into the muscle. Peter’s eyes fluttered closed, the television only background noise for the fantasy blooming inside of the teenager’s mind presently.

In his imagination, he let the soft blanket covering him slip to the floor. He was hard, and the outline of his dick could be seen through his blue briefs. Wade split his legs apart with no resistance, and he pressed his soft lips to Peter’s ankle, to his calf, to the inside of his knee, and then finally, to the softness of his parted thigh. He shivered when Wade’s mouth ghosted over his briefs, his warm breath making Peter’s cock twitch without being touched. “How bad do you want it, baby?” Wade’s voice murmured lowly, icy eyes flickering up as his lips quirked into an all-knowing grin. _Badly. Desperately. Intensely._

There was laughter on the television, but in his head, Wade’s expression was predatory, and it made Peter feel small in some dark way. Maybe it was sick the way he wanted to be invaded, but he didn’t care inside the safety of his skull, where Wade’s fingers looped into his briefs and tugged them down his thighs. Peter was shaking with anticipation, his dick hard and leaking, hands anxious to explore.

Wade took the tip of his cock into his mouth and slowly swirled his tongue around it. Peter’s inexperienced hips rutted up, and Wade still looked amused, holding Peter’s wanting hips down easily.

Peter was lost in his own fantasy, but his mind still kept track of every move Wade made. And so the older man began to shift closer, Peter’s heart quickened, not absolutely sure of the older man’s intention but desperate to find out. But his eyes snapped open wide when a sneaky hand snatched his box of candy away from him, and Peter immediately sat up from his relaxed position. His heart skipped a beat when Wade’s hand slipped into the package, where his had at just been, still coated in sour sugar.

“Wade, what the hell?!” Peter accused, delirious after being so suddenly ripped from his fantasy world.

Wade was struggling not to laugh, Peter could tell. “I thought you were asleep!” he argued, but his expression was loose and amused, his eyebrows raised and his mouth drawn into an irritating smile. It was only then that Peter noticed he was wearing Spider-Man merch - a black t-shirt with his logo placed smartly above the little pocket on his right pec. If only Wade knew he had stolen Spider-Man’s candy… Maybe he’d feel a little more remorse, or maybe he’d be in an even worse state of mockery at the scene.

“Oh, I see! You came all the way in here, feigned the urge to watch television so you could reach my precious Sour Patch Kids!” Peter argued back, half serious, half joking. This was one of the times that he and Wade slotted together in a totally comical type of fighting that they both dragged out forever and annoyed May with. It was also, unfortunately, another reason Peter was so attracted to him. It was this endearing chemistry, the way they fought over absolutely nothing and laughed all the way through.

The box of candy was passed quickly from Wade’s right to left hand, knowing Peter wasn’t afraid to introduce playground rules and snatch it right from him. “Now, Petey Pie, don’t paint me guilty when I’m honestly innocent! I’m a simple man! I see delicious candy, I eat delicious candy!” Wade insisted.

Peter wasn’t listening to him, not really. His eyes were locked on the candy, and he discreetly shifted from his butt to his knees, ready to pounce… Wade was laughing again, shaking his head to say no, “Oh, are we bringing violence into this? You really expect me to fight the baby I stole candy from?”

Whether he wanted to or not, Peter was giggling even as he lurched forward, looking to disarm Wade’s free hand to keep him from holding him back. He tried to press Wade’s wrist into the couch, but the older man twisted out of the grip and easily knocked Peter off-balance, sending him backward. The truth was, Peter wasn’t fighting him. Not really. Peter was Spider-Man after all, and he had nearly been claimed by death more than once, but in Wade’s presence, he was lax and effortlessly maneuvered.

Wade dug his hand into the box and pulled out two brightly colored, sugar-coated gummies, trapped between thick fingers. Peter’s heart was pounding in his chest, his eyes suddenly flickering from Wade’s hand to his mouth as the older man shoved the candy into his open maw. He was chewing, but somehow still had that annoyingly alluring smile on his face. Peter sometimes wondered if Wade had some sick kink for making him angry, but regardless, Peter wasn’t playing games concerning candy.

“You fucker,” Peter grumbled, surprising Wade as he avoided his free hand altogether and managed to sling a skinny, bare leg over the older man’s lap to anchor him in place. He wasn’t fully on Wade’s lap, and he didn’t intend to be, but Wade was doing everything in his power to keep that candy from him. Peter had never cursed being short so much in his life, unable to reach the box of candy that was only Wade’s arm-length away. He shifted fully on the older man’s lap, pressing him securely into the couch as he stood up on his knees the very moment Wade’s hand surged above their heads, “Give it to me!”

All Wade had in that moment was his free hand, and oh boy, did he use it. He intentionally, maliciously, with pure hatred and violence in his heart,  _tickled_ Peter. Wade’s long fingers met the curve of his waist, and a choked laugh escaped his throat. The urge to curl into himself arose, but he was so close! He reached blindly for the box of candy, and he almost had it. Almost. But Wade was relentless.

Peter collapsed gracelessly into Wade’s lap, the hand digging into his skin still dancing along his waist and stomach. He was giggling frantically, his eyes swelling with tears as his grinned against his will and reached desperately for Wade’s hands, looking to somehow to stop the paralyzing feeling. “Wa-Wade!”

Peter gasped, his laughter sweet and echoing as he squirmed atop the older man’s thighs. “I surrender! I surrender!” he insisted, his head lolling forward to rest his forehead against Wade’s shoulder. Wade’s fingers went from tickling him to rubbing at his sides soothingly, his own laughter soft and delighted.

“Can’t you ever let me win?” Peter asked, lifting his head to stare into Wade’s warm blue eyes. They were both panting, still worked up from the play fight. Peter’s heart was a hummingbird trapped in his embracing ribs, and all he could do was lose himself in the heated gaze they shared. Wade smiled, and hundreds of secrets shaped like love letters threatened to spill from Peter’s betraying mouth. It felt once again like there was no one else in the world - like they were equal parts Adam and Eve in the beginning of the time. Only Peter was the one to ache deep down, desperate to sink his teeth into forbidden fruit.

“Can’t you ever actually win?” Wade answered mockingly, but his eyes were giving him away. Peter couldn’t say what the older man felt in that moment, but it was open, available. Somehow, the walls that had been kept up for months came crumbling down. And Peter had to keep himself from trembling at the sheer vulnerability he felt. Wade had looked at him thousands of times, but then, in the dim light of the living room, he really saw him. Along with his sick, bittersweet desire for the man.

There he was, sitting on Wade’s lap as nothing but a seventeen-year-old who looked fear and desire in the face and still begged for more. His doe eyes drifted down to Wade’s lips, probably still tasting of sweet and sour candy. Peter wanted to kiss him so badly, his chest burned with it. He glanced back up, reconnecting that penetrating gaze that wore them both thin. And just like that, Wade knew for sure. Peter only had half a second to be frightened - to worry that Wade would crash back into reality and shove him away - because in the next, Wade was speaking softly. “It’s late… Let me take you to bed.”

Peter blinked, caught in the web of awe and curiosity. Underneath him, he felt the heat of Wade’s erection pressed against him. Arousal throbbed through him, and he was afraid he’d wake up from a dream on the couch, leaking in his underwear and swearing underneath his breath. So, instead, he eased off of the older man’s lap slowly, feeling the drag of his thighs against Wade’s before he stood up nervously in the living room. The light from the television cast his shadow against the adjacent wall, and he focused solely on that instead of watching Wade, even though he desperately wanted to look.

Peter’s bedroom was cool and dark when they finally found themselves inside of it. Wade had been in there many times before, but never like this. Peter suddenly found himself out of control, away from the safety of his mind where he was smooth and experienced and all-knowing. In the real world, he was much more like a young fawn who had just learned to walk. Peter asked himself a single question: did he still want this now that it was real? And as he turned back to Wade, finding the man with shaky, desperate hands, all he could think was, _yes_ , _yes_ , _yes_ , a hundred times over as they met in the night.

“Peter,” Wade whispered, his voice low and somber. “This will change everything.”

Peter’s hands graced his neck in the dim dark, and he carefully slid his palms down across the expanse of his broad shoulders, along his muscled arms, only to find his warm hands. Peter, for the first time, intertwined their fingers and felt shivers he couldn’t suppress roll down his spine. The weak light of his desk lamp was muted against Wade’s handsome face, leaving Peter breathless and bold. “I don’t care.”

The dam broke, and with a blind passion, their lips met. An overwhelming stab of desire bloomed throughout Peter, and he kissed back with a fever that had festered long enough. They were anxious, desperate, and Wade’s lips moved quickly against his own, coaxing Peter’s inexperienced tongue out for them to eventually slide together; wet and hot enough for Peter to nearly feel like he was going to collapse. He couldn’t breathe or think, all he could do was lean up into it, his fingers clamping down hard against Wade’s as if to tether himself in reality, afraid he’d float off into space, lost in that feeling.

“Wade,” Peter begged between kisses, his cock throbbing in his cotton pants. Every nerve in his body was on fire, raw and waiting to be soothed. They stopped kissing, but their mouths were still pressed together, and Peter panted against his lips, “Wade, please, I-I don’t know what I’m doing.”

And yet Peter had never wanted anything more. Wade slowly moved them to the unmade bed, and the very moment they met the sheets, Peter’s hands came up to touch and feel every inch of his strong body; he was blissful. Lost to the entrancing pull and push of want and need. They were lost together.

Wade kissed the corner of his mouth, and Peter couldn’t help but smile. Wade easily slipped his old band tee over his head, and he was quick to explore the sensitive sweep of Peter’s chest. Long, experienced fingers teased his nipples, relishing in the way Peter laughed lightly. He liked it a lot. And then, Wade was pressing gentle kisses to the space above his fluttering heart, to his sternum, to the curve of his ribcage. Peter was so in love with him as he stroked across his flesh; maybe it proved that it wasn’t solely about sex. It was really, for both of them, the first chance to genuinely feel each other.

The older man’s lips trailed lower, grazing along his belly button and feeling the softness of his peachy stomach, the slight fuzz of his happy trail, his smooth and hard edges. “Peter?” Wade called out to him, seeming puzzled along the length of Peter’s lanky body. “How long have you wanted this to happen?”

Peter blinked up at the ceiling, chewing his lip, flustered at the question. “Since the day we met.”

He felt the older man breath shakily onto his skin - a concocted mixture of amusement, surprise, and a similar ache. “I always thought I mistook the way you looked at me, kid,” Wade admitted gruffly, and Peter’s bony hands slid onto either side of the man’s face, holding his jaw in his hands and stroking his thumbs across stubbled-skin. It was so intimate, Peter’s stomach felt like thousands of butterflies had fled their cocoons and were now battering into the delicate walls of his stomach. It felt so, so good.

“Wade,” Peter moaned, his voice high and needy, and nothing else had to be said. Wade hooked his fingers into those tiny, blue briefs and slid them down Peter’s soft and freckled thighs. This was unlike any fantasy. Nothing could have prepared him for this - for the wild, buzzing anticipation that panged along with his heartbeat. Peter’s cock was warm and heavy against his stomach, drooling precum as he struggled to breathe. Should he tell Wade he was a virgin? Did he already know? Wade’s fingers suddenly curled around his dick, and his entire back arched off the bed. “ _Oh,_  W-Wade, I’m-”

Wade’s chuckled against his thigh, “Gotcha, baby boy.”

Peter’s face had to be the color of beets by now. Nothing felt real. His aunt’s handsome, smirking boyfriend was cradled between his legs with his hand around his cock, and Peter was stunned. A warm, wet tongue laved over the head of his cock and his hands twisted into the sheets. He was _so_ fucked. Barely anything had happened, and he was ready to bust. “If you want me to stop at any time, tap my shoulder three times, okay, Peter Pumpkin?” Wade prompted, and Peter nodded frantically in consent. Wade’s mouth enveloped the head of his cock, and a wounded noise left the teenager’s red mouth.

Wade’s tongue massaged the head with easy experience before he slid further down, engulfing Peter’s dick in his mouth. Peter’s thighs were trembling as Wade’s hand’s ran up his body, feeling every inch of toned, silky flesh while he took his cock effortlessly into the back of his throat and hollowed his cheeks. Peter cried out, broken whines escaping his mouth no matter how desperately he tried to be quiet. He was consumed by Wade. By his knowing eyes. By his tall, broad frame. By the way he said Peter’s name. Tears welled in his brown eyes, and they drained warm down his cheeks as the pleasure enveloped him.

Pleasure was like lightning, thousands of bolts prickling through his veins and leaving him shuddering, head splayed back against his pillow, his eyes clenched shut. “Wa-oh, _oh_ , _Wade_!” Peter moaned out, so quickly on the verge of orgasm he was embarrassed, but before his stomach could clench tight, Wade’s warm mouth slid off of his cock, leaving it wet and chilly in the cool night air. Peter whined, nearly in agony, but he was soon satiated again as Wade climbed back up his body, pressing his slick lips to Peter’s own. They kissed frantically, hearts pounding, bodies colliding. Peter could’ve came from that alone.

Wade pulled away, yanking his Spider-Man tee over his head before shoving down his sweatpants. Both items were forgotten as the older man blanketed himself over Peter heavily. Peter was in heaven above.

Their bare bodies slid together, and when Wade’s hot, thick cock pressed against his stomach, Peter sighed in ecstasy. He had imagined this moment billions of time, but the heat of their skin, the dreamy arousal - Peter couldn’t have prepared for it if he tried. He felt more emotions than he could process. He was excited. He was shocked. He was in love. Wade’s big hand danced down his chest, tweaking a pink nipple as he leaned down to press hungry, insistent kisses to the teenager’s throat. Peter was trembling, but couldn’t help but ask, hoarse voice filled with longing, “Wade, is this a dream?”

Against the crook of his neck, Peter felt Wade’s lips curl into a smile. “If it is, I never want to wake up.”

Wade thrusted forward, and their cocks slid together sloppily, slick with precum and spit. Peter gasped, fingernails digging desperately into Wade’s smooth, tanned skin. It shouldn’t have been so arousing, but Peter was burning up inside, throbbing. Peter canted his hips up, desperate for more of that delicious feeling. It might have been useless friction to someone experienced, but this was Peter’s first time, and every touch was a miracle, a spark of fire. Wade’s teeth grazed his jugular, sending chills down his spine. “You’re so beautiful for me, baby boy,” the older man praised, and Peter’s heart fluttered.

Peter was panting, pressed into the mattress by this stunning man. His eyes were closed, and he thought of everything. All the times they played video games on the living room floor, bumping elbows. Sitting across from one another at dinner, flicking peas at one another when May looked away. Eye contact from across a crowded room, so tense Peter could barely handle it. The times Wade had brushed by him, had complimented him, had cornered him - it had all led up to this. To the realization, brought forth by every frantic thrust, that Wade wanted him, too. That Wade thought of him as well.

Between their stomachs, Wade’s hand cupped their cocks and helped them find a better rhythm. White, hot pleasure bloomed inside of Peter and he cried out Wade’s name into the night, up into the Heavens, begging a God he never believed in for this to last forever. It was suddenly animalistic, the rut of their desires building, and Wade growled low in his throat, nipping at Peter’s soft skin. “I thought I had met the love of my life…” he said, and Peter, even lost in his daze, knew he was talking about May. “We got along so well, and she finally, _ah_ , she finally introduced me to her nerdy little nephew…”

Peter wasn’t sure he knew what the point of this was. “But that first day at the restaurant - oh, _fuck_ \- you were ten minutes late, and I-I was expecting some edgy teenager with who was gonna kick my - _huh_ \- ankles underneath the table,” Wade was still talking, but he was thrusting harder, and Peter was struggling to keep up, unable to really breathe, only trying to listen. “Then the door opened, and you walked in. _You_ in your little Decathlon jacket. _You_ with your sheepish smile. _Y_ _ou_ who tripped over your own shoelaces halfway to the table - fuck, _Peter_ \- and I-I knew I was fucked. I knew I was doomed.”

At the admission, Peter whined weakly. Pleasure had him in a vice grip, and Wade’s free hand was all over him, grazing his skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. “It has always been you, Peter.”

“Wade, I…” Peter struggled to say, overwhelmed with what he had just heard. He wished he could process it - wished he could replay the words in his head over and over and over again. But Wade was fierce, pressing into his body, sending waves of pleasure that threatened to drown him. He spread his thighs open wide, a show of submission, and he pressed his groin up into Wade’s. So many things could’ve slipped from his mouth - things that were filthy and embarrassingly honest. Peter cried out.

Wade kissed from his clavicle to his earlobe, his breath hot and panting in Peter’s ears. “Do you wanna know what I thought about Peter? Want to know my dirty little secrets?” Wade asked, his voice a breathy growl and Peter’s hips stuttered, wanting more. Even in this state, Peter wanted to roll his eyes at the obvious All American Rejects reference. Trust Wade to bring them back to 2000s soft rock.

“I wanted you in your adorable Hello Kitty pajama pants, I wanted to hold you down and grind my cock against you until you were red in the face and begging me to fuck you,” Wade murmured into his ear, and Peter felt so good he could explode. The dirty talk was the icing on the cake, and something about being told how much he was wanted made Peter ache low in his stomach. “It took every ounce of self-control to keep my hands to myself. I wanted you so much, I couldn’t think straight for weeks.”

Peter circled his arms around Wade’s neck, and he felt so small underneath the older man. So vulnerable. “I’m so close,” Peter practically sobbed, rutting against Wade with no skill whatsoever. His nails were digging into Wade’s back. His toes were curling. His stomach was clenching. But it wasn’t enough. He was shaking, his body aflame.“Please fuck me, Wade, _daddy_ , please?” Peter sobbed.

Peter’s face was blood red, sweat was dripping down his pale skin onto the sheets. Wade pushed forward again, their cocks bumping together in the dark. Peter shivered for the tenth time, and Wade was greedy, hands everywhere, fingers digging into virgin flesh. “Want me to fuck you open with my fingers before sliding my big cock into you? Make you take it? Such a good boy, baby,” Wade rambled, his hand sandwiched between them as he jerked frantically at their cocks. Pleasure coiled in Peter’s stomach suddenly, and his fingernails attempted to make a home of Wade’s sweaty skin. He gasped.

His back arched high in the air, and they lost their renewed rhythm. Tears streamed down the sides of his flustered face, and he cried out in ecstasy, body drawn tight and shuddering above the sheets. Wade’s arms embraced him and pressed their bodies close, even as Peter tried to kick and shove away.

His climax could’ve only lasted five seconds in total, but even as he collapsed into the blankets, it was still echoing throughout his bones. Aftershocks consumed him, and he took heavy inhalations of breath through his mouth to keep his lungs from stuttering. Peter was a mess, covered in tears and sweat and the cum that shot on his stomach. He could feel Wade staring at him, taking him in hungrily.

Wade’s cock was still hard between them, still throbbing. “Can I… touch you?” Peter rasped.

Wade’s eyes never left his as he led his smaller palm to the heat of his cock. Peter held his breath as he curled his fingers around its mass, finding that his fingers couldn’t meet all the way around the width because of its size. Peter was spent, but his arousal still hummed low in his gut knowing how hung Wade really was. He had always assumed, considering the obvious bulge in Wade’s jeans Peter could never ignore in the past. Peter sat up, only to push Wade backward on his bed so he had more room to explore. Wade laughed quietly on his back, “Oh, are you gonna play daddy now, baby boy? Is that it?”

But then Peter’s watering mouth was wrapping around his hard cock and all the sound left Wade’s throat. It stretched his lips wide, and curiously, he tongued the slit of the older man’s cock. Wade carded his long fingers through Peter’s sweaty hair. Peter tried to take him deeper into his mouth, feeling the excess of saliva beginning to fill his mouth with how much he was taking. He didn’t really know what he was doing, to be honest. He had a very vague idea from porn, and he was doing his best to move his tongue around and try to impress Wade. And it must’ve worked because not two minutes later, Wade’s fingers were tightening in his hair and warm, salty cum was pooling in Peter’s mouth.

“Hey, let me get you a tissue or something,” Wade insisted softly and began to move to get up. 

Peter placed a bony hand on his thigh, having already swallowed the cum. “No need,” he croaked.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Peter,” Wade exclaimed, falling back into the sheets.

Moments later, Peter had snuggled into the warm space between Wade’s abdomen and his left arm. They were both coming down, still breathing heavily. Peter was more content than he had ever been in his entire life, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if it all turned out to be a dream. He’d probably stand on the roof and scream until he lost his voice. But something about it seemed too real; the way Wade’s stomach growled for real food, the slight buzz of arousal and ache in the air, or even the way Peter chewed on his lip. He tried to wake himself up, sure that he’d get attached if he stayed too long.

But no matter how hard he bit down on the delicate flesh of his inner-lip, nothing changed. They both stayed, pressed hot together, in Peter’s messily made bed. He was filled with a variety of emotion; things that pulled tight on his heartstrings, things that desperately begged for a solution. Aunt May laid asleep in another room in the house, completely and totally unaware of everything that had occurred.

The relief and love he felt licked at the wounds guilt cut into his heart. Maybe he was a horrible person for it all. For giving in. For wanting so desperately that he could do nothing but cave. Any sane person would look at this situation with an upper lip raised in disgust, but Peter didn’t care for being sane.

He was already infected with the venom of being Spider-Man, and that wasn’t normal. That was something that the public scowled at. Was this different? As badly as he wanted to say no, he knew it was. Aunt May made the difference. Her happiness stood between Peter and Wade. And if Peter were anyone else, maybe he could push it aside. But in the end, he’d bury any and all emotion for hers.

“I know what you’re thinkin’ about,” Wade murmured, and Peter closed his eyes. “It’s not your place to fix this. It’s mine. Things happen, baby boy, you know that, and I have to do what’s right.”

“What are you gonna do?” Peter whispered, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Wade kissed his shoulder, “Can’t stay with someone I’m not really in love with.”

It made sense. It was the right thing to do. But Peter couldn’t help the tears beginning to trickle down his flustered face. The thought of Wade not being around filled Peter with a bitter agony. Peter knew he’d never see him dancing around the living room to Fleetwood Mac again. He missed him, and he wasn’t even gone yet. “I-I wish that didn’t mean you had to leave me, too,” Peter tried to keep his voice strong, level, but it was a desperate quiver in the yellow light. He was consumed with a painful ache.

These were the ways these stories ended. There were no happy endings for people who fell in love with the impossible. It was tempting fate. A bad trope of star-crossed lovers. Peter was so young, so vulnerable and inexperienced but he wished he were the opposite. He wished he had more time, if only so he could beg Wade to never leave him. “Peter, you will never know how badly I wish I could stay.”

“Can’t you?” Peter asked, but he knew the answer. He turned around to face him in the dark, and he kissed Wade through his bleary tears. His heart was full of all the love he felt - all the admiration and adoration - but his stomach was heavy with anxiety. Wade kissed him back so sweetly, so carefully, and everything inside of Peter yearned to melt into him. They were blanketed by the imperfect moon, the soft darkness, and for a few moments, the only sounds to be heard were wet lips colliding. Peter knew Wade would be gone in the morning, so he imprinted his heartbeat to memory and tried to sleep.

*************

“Y’know, I really think you ripped my suit off,” Spider-Man said conversationally, his mask tugged up above his nose so he could shove an entire soft taco into his waiting mouth. He was sitting on one of the tallest buildings in New York, his legs hanging off the ledge as he looked out towards the sunset.

“Okay, first off, fuck you. Secondly, who was I supposta’ be? Captain America? Thirdly, fuck off- wait, did I say that already? It doesn’t matter, fuck you, Spidey. If it wasn’t your birthday, I’d kick your whole ass,” Deadpool rattled off in return, talking fanatically with his hands. His mask was pulled up, too, but he was currently struggling not to rob Spider-Man of all of his amazing birthday tacos.

Spider-Man laughed, “You couldn’t kick my ass, Wade. I’ve got super strength!”

“I’m just sayin’, only one of us is capable of death, and it ain’t me,” Deadpool quipped.

“Shut up, you’d never kill me,” Spider-Man said, reaching for his orange soda.

Deadpool shrugged, “You’re right, baby boy, I’d only ever murder that ass.” Peter yanked his mask off his head to give the older man one of the most annoyed, death-inflicting glares of his life. Deadpool smirked wildly, the scars around his mouth contorting around the expression. “You’re denying it?”

Peter squinted, and Deadpool leaned into the lion’s den, placing a taco-tasting kiss to the younger man’s lips. Peter almost pulled away, but he couldn’t help it. It was Wade. He kissed back sweetly, his hand coming up to stroke the burn-marks on Wade’s cheek. The older man would’ve flinched away had it been anyone else, but Peter loved him so much, he could’ve been Bigfoot and Peter still would’ve french kissed his ridiculous ass. They pulled away, and Wade whispered, “Happy twentieth, Petey.”

“Happy birthday to me, too, Wade,” Peter replied, grinning from ear to ear.


End file.
